


The Relic Hunter

by TanyaReed



Series: Demon Within/Relic Hunter [2]
Category: Relic Hunter
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-12
Updated: 2012-09-12
Packaged: 2017-11-14 02:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TanyaReed/pseuds/TanyaReed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written in 2006 or 2007. This is one of a pair of mirror stories that take place in completely different universes that have the same theme but entirely different outcomes. One of the stories is a story of pain and madness and one is a story of love and hope. It's pretty obvious from the beginning which is which.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Relic Hunter

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry about the way the italics cut out in one part of the story. For some reason, AO3 will not let me put that scene in italics (except for the first sentence). Still, that should be enough to indicate it's still in the past...I hope.

Nigel Bailey sat down, smiling at the very young, very blond reporter. She reminded him a bit of Jenny Fox, though not quite as pretty. She smiled back, her blue eyes glowing. Somehow, Nigel had expected her to be older. Though, nowadays, everyone looked young to him.

“I'm so glad you agreed to do this interview, Dr. Bailey,” the reporter, Nigel believed her name was Meredith, said. “I know how busy you are.”

“Ever since I discovered the Roric Stone last year, everyone seems eager to meet with me. They forget I've been relic hunting for almost twenty-five years.”

“It must be terribly exciting.”

“Exciting. Dangerous. But I love it. I wouldn't want to do anything else.”

“What about the classes and workshops you teach and the volunteering you do at the museum?”

“I have to do something when hunting season is slow,” he said and gave her a wink.

She raised an eyebrow and continued, “Well, I, for one, find relic hunting fascinating. How does someone get into a career like that? How did you get started?”

Nigel had a sudden picture in his mind of him as a very young man—a little clumsy, a little innocent—on his very first hunt. He had no idea back then what life had in store for him.

In the memory, there was also a woman, dark haired, with fiery, devilish eyes and an angelic smile. Nigel held her memory close for a moment before answering.

“I was the teaching assistant to Professor Sydney Fox. Have you heard of her?”

Meredith's eyes widened. “Sydney Fox? _The_ Sydney Fox? She's considered to be the best relic hunter of her time. There are still stories going around concerning her exploits.”

“Not of her time.” Nigel shook his head. “Ever. If she were alive today, I'm sure she'd still be the best. She was amazing. If you could have seen her in action...We all thought she was invincible.”

He looked down at his hands, but looked up when the reporter asked softly, “She died of an aneurysm, didn't she?”

XXX

_He had been gone less than fifteen minutes._

_Nigel came into the office, sorting through the papers that Professor Watts had given him on The Demon's Heart._

_Something felt wrong, making Nigel glance up. He froze, a flash of terror piercing his body. Precious research fluttered from his numb fingers onto the floor._

_“Sydney,” he whispered._

_She was lying there in front of the door to her inner office, her body sprawled unnaturally, as if she had crumpled. Nigel rushed to her side, his heart beating wildly and the palms of his hands starting to sweat._

_He knelt and brushed soft hair from her face. Thoughts of assailants didn't even enter his head. All he could think of was the paleness of her skin and the stillness of her body._

_Frantically, he checked her pulse points. Then, in disbelief, he checked them again. He put his face down to hers, hoping to feel her breath on his cheek, but there was nothing. No pulse. No breath._

_“Sydney,” he choked out again, automatically starting artificial respiration and trying to ignore the fact that his heart had just broken into a million pieces so small he'd never find them all._

_Over and over, he tried to revive her, denying the knowledge that it was hopeless. Karen found him there much later, still trying to breathe life into Sydney's lungs. He had fought against the secretary's attempts to pull him away from Sydney, and in the end it had taken three very large paramedics and the sight of Karen's tears to make him give up the fight._

XXX

“Mr. Bailey?”

Nigel came back to himself with a start.

“Yes,” he said, answering her question. “It was ironic really. A woman who had survived armed gunmen, explosions, falling into holes, and countless traps dying because her own body turned against her. It was completely unexpected, especially by me.”

“How long did you work for her?”

“Three years. It was the most amazing time of my life. Relic hunting was new—exciting, terrifying. I learned a lot about myself.”

“And when she died, you decided to continue on?”

“Yes,” Nigel said, but didn't elaborate, and Meredith moved on to other, more recent things. Nigel answered her questions automatically, but his mind was still in the past. Had it really been over twenty years? When he closed his eyes, he could still see her face as clearly as if no time had passed. Sydney smiling; Sydney rolling her eyes at him; Sydney triumphant as a foe slumped senseless to the ground.

If the reporter noticed that Nigel was in his own world, she didn't mention it, and at the end she seemed very pleased with the interview.

“Thank you for your time, Dr. Bailey.”

“You're welcome. I was glad to do it.”

The reporter stood up and offered her hand. As Nigel took it, instead of a shake, she squeezed gently and gave him a smile that was completely different from the one she used for the interview. 

“I think Professor Fox would have been very proud of you.”

XXX

_It had been raining the day of Sydney's funeral. The memory of the graveside service was still as sharp as glass. Nigel had stood between Karen and Claudia, both weeping silently and clinging to him, with the rain falling down on him. He felt it dripping down his cheeks and falling with slight tickles from his chin in faint mockery of the tears he could not shed. His was a pain too deep to be expressed by tears. Instead, he was being consumed from the inside by a horrible, hollow, aching grief. It was almost a relief to stand there and let the sky give him the tears his heart could not._

_“I can't believe she's gone,” Karen whispered, her body trembling against Nigel's. Though she had only known Sydney a little over a year, the two had formed a strong bond based on respect and affection._

_“She was one of the best friends I ever had,” Claudia answered, the pain in her child-like voice unmistakable. “She's the only one who ever really listened to me.”_

__Me too _, Nigel thought but didn't say._

_His eyes lifted from the man officiating the ceremony and wandered over the faces around Sydney's casket. So many people had come. Nigel had been amazed, though he knew he shouldn't be. She had touched so many lives with her passion, her fire, and her heart. No one who met Sydney Fox ever forgot her. Nigel knew he wouldn't. There were rival relic hunters there, the nicer ones that Sydney enjoyed competing against, many of her old boyfriends, including Francois, Reiner, and Dallas, friends, acquaintances, students. And Cate. Nigel noticed her standing a little behind the crowd, her pretty face troubled. Directly in front of her stood Randall Fox and a very pregnant Jenny. His face was white and drawn, and he looked like an old man as he leaned against his wife. Nigel wished he had someone to lean against but he had to be strong for Claudia and Karen._

_When the words were finally over and after they lowered the mahogany casket into the ground, Nigel turned away. The girls left him, walking hand in hand together, joined in grief though they barely knew each other._

_“Nigel.”_

_He turned at the sound of Dallas Carter's voice. The tall blond looked at Nigel with broken sadness in his eyes. Nigel had always liked the rogue, but he couldn't muster a smile for him now. Dallas didn't seem to expect it, anyway. Wordlessly, he put his arms around Nigel and pulled him into a crushing hug. Nigel was almost overwhelmed at the gesture and had to fight down a painful lump in his throat when Dallas finally pulled away and said quietly, “I know you loved her.”_

_Nigel stumbled away from him, looking up to see another familiar form nearby, leaning against a tree. The solitary man solemnly raised his hand in greeting. Nigel raised a hand back, knowing Sydney would be pleased that Derek Lloyd had cared enough to be at her service. He was going to go over and speak with the agent when a hand on his arm made him turn._

_Nigel was surprised to see Timothy Watts standing beside him._

_“Professor Watts.”_

_“It's a shame about Sydney.”_

_“Yes,” Nigel agreed._

_“I guess the Demon's Heart will never be found now. Sad really. What a find it would have been.”_

_“Yes,” Nigel answered again._

_“Unless...” And here, the professor's eyes turned thoughtful and appraising. “Do you consider yourself a relic hunter, Nigel?”_

_“Me?” The question brought Nigel's mind back from painful places, and suddenly his whole attention was on Watts. “You mean me...alone?”_

_“You've been on countless hunts with Sydney. You must know how it works. What a tribute to her if you found it and donated it to the museum in her memory.”_

_A tribute indeed. Something he could give back to her for everything she had done for him. A way to show how much he loved her._

_“I'll think about it, sir.”_

_“Good man.” Watts clapped him on the shoulder. “Let me know, and I'll send over the rest of my research.”_

_Nigel watched Professor Watts walk away not knowing what he would do. He did know that he wanted Sydney to be proud of him, wherever she was now. And maybe a relic hunt would help him forget his grief._

XXX

Dark windows greeted Nigel when he got home after the interview. At one time, the silence wouldn't have bothered him. He had liked living alone, especially in the years right after Sydney's death. Back then, being with people had been painful. He was always peering into faces, searching for one he knew he'd never see again.

But that was long before his niece Jaidyn had come to America to study. She needed a place to stay and Nigel needed something to help fill his life when he wasn't off on a hunt. She had moved in, and the two had been surprised at how well their lives meshed together.

She reminded Nigel a bit of Sydney. Despite the fact that her hair was light and uncontrollably curly, and her skin was as pale as a Scot's, Jaidyn had the same intelligence and wit—not to mention a healthy taste for adventure. Nigel thought her talents were wasted on a desire to be an ad executive, and he often considered asking her to join him on the hunt—especially now that he was getting older. Lately, he had begun to feel his age.

Nigel sighed, hating that Jaidyn was in England visiting her father, and hating that he missed her so much.

He fumbled for his keys, wishing he'd remembered to turn on the outside light. He finally found them, and fit the right one into the hole mostly by feel.

As he finally stumbled into the entryway, he thought back over his interview from that afternoon.

It had brought up a lot of old memories. He had been so different back then, in the beginning. Innocent. Naïve. Full of doubts. He had never believed that he could do anything that really meant something. And then, he met Sydney.

Thoughts of her brought a smile to Nigel's face. She was the one who showed him what he was made of. He would never have learned what he could do if she hadn't pushed him to stretch his limits.

Her loss had devastated him.

It had also inspired him.

He still missed her. After all these years, he could close his eyes and see her face as clearly as if he'd seen it yesterday. He could remember her touch, and the way it felt when her hand brushed his arm. He could remember the way she smelled when they were crushed together, either in hiding or forced by some sadistic madman. He still had her satchel, though he'd never had the heart to use it, hanging on a peg in his bedroom. To most, Sydney Fox was an unbelievable legend, but to Nigel she was a ghost that haunted and guided him.

Once inside, Nigel hung up his coat and headed for the bathroom. Before he reached it, the phone rang. With a weary sigh, Nigel changed his course.

The sigh turned into a smile when he pushed a button and Jaidyn's freckled face appeared on the screen.

“Where've you been?” she demanded.

Nigel's smile only widened. “Out. Why haven't you been?”

She blushed. “I have, but I got back a couple of hours ago.” She rolled her eyes. “A little too late for Daddy.”

“I can imagine.” When she was home, Preston liked to know where Jaidyn was at all times.

“But,” she said, changing the subject back, “the question is where were you?”

“I was out, as I mentioned. Am I not allowed?”

“You know how much I worry. You're always throwing yourself into some dan...Wait, was this 'out' with a woman?”

“Maybe.”

It was Jaidyn's turn to grin. She was always trying to set him up. “Well, it's about time.”

Nigel just shook his head. “Go to bed, Jay. It's late for me and even later for you. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Give my...regards...to Preston.”

“Okay. Good night, Uncle Nigel. Love you.”

“I love you too, Sweetie. Don't argue with your father too much.”

His niece wrinkled her nose saucily just a second before touching a button and fading Nigel's screen to black He chuckled as he got some underwear for after his shower. Jaidyn always cast a little sunshine into his life.

The shower was very short and soon he was climbing wearily into bed. Once more, his thoughts went to the past. His last waking thought was of Sydney and, when he dreamed, he dreamed of her.

XXX

__

_Nigel walked slowly through the narrow, hand-hewn hallways. Absently, he noted the type of stone and its texture. Stone had always interested him, and he probably knew more about it than anyone who was not a geologist should._

_The search for the Demon's Heart had been an interesting one. But quiet and lonely. The artifact had a fascinating history of intrigue, depravity, and death. The things those in possession of it had done were cruel and barbaric, and it was said the Heart required your soul to give you power._

_Not that Nigel wanted power. What would he do with it? The only thing he wanted was to have Sydney back, and even a magic stone couldn't do that._

_Lord, he missed her._

_If she were there, the two of them would be creeping down the hallway, talking nonsense just to keep the tension of the hunt from getting to be too much. She would smile at him in that infuriating way of hers and say something completely off the wall._

_With a gasp, Nigel suddenly had to stop. Tears came to his eyes, and a sharp pain stabbed through his chest. His knees felt weak, and he had to lower himself to the floor. Trembling took over his body, and the light from his torch bobbed crazily along the tunnel wall._

_He was alone._

_The realization hit him like a hammer blow. Sydney wasn't ahead of him, checking for traps. She wasn't behind him, guarding their rear against rivals. She wasn't there, and she was never going to be there again. Sydney was gone, and Nigel had to do this by himself. Without her._

_Something broke inside him. He felt it crack and shatter like a stone abused window pane. Sharp edges cut him from the inside, releasing trapped emotions. Nigel wrapped his arms around his knees as wave after wave washed over him. He finally found what had been lost to him since discovering Sydney lying lifelessly on the office floor._

_They started out dry and painful, coming from his gut and ripping their way up through a throat that was stiff and tight. His whole body shook with their violence, and he was afraid they would rip him apart._

_Then, finally, the burning in his eyes let loose, and they overflowed. Tears dripped down his face, washing away all thought. Gasping, trying to breathe through his sobs, Nigel buried his face in his knees and let go._

_He cried for Sydney and he cried for what he had lost. His best friend. The closest family he had had since his parents' death. The only person who could make him feel completely safe. The person who never questioned his worth. Gone. Gone. Gone._

_The word seemed to echo through his head in time to his sobs, pounding into his heart with every breath he took._

_“Sydney, please don't leave me here alone,” he choked, but there was no answer from the walls around him._

_Eventually, the tears stopped, and Nigel was left on the cold ground feeling empty and drained. Weakly, he got to his feet and threw his pack back over his shoulder. The hand not holding his torch scrubbed over his face, wiping away traces of tears and leaving streaks of grime in their place._

_He had a hunt to complete. Sydney would never let herself be so overcome by emotion that she'd stop a hunt, and neither would he. The museum would have the Heart presented to them in Sydney's memory. He owed her that, at least._

_With determination, Nigel began making his way down the hallway once more._

_Before long, he noticed a subtle change in the tunnel he was following. The stones beneath his feet were different, and Nigel was reminded of the time he and Sydney had found the devil doll._

_Carefully, Nigel bent and studied the stones until he was sure he knew where it was safe to step. He made his way slowly through the tunnel, almost surprised at how his knowledge and instincts were getting him through his first hunt alone. He had always thought he didn't have instincts._

_A small click warned him to stop congratulating himself and duck. He hit the ground hard, gasping as the breath was knocked from his body. Above his head, he felt a rushing of air as something plowed through where he had just been standing._

_He stayed there, with his face pressed into the dirt, until he was sure it was safe to get up. His legs trembled slightly but he ignored them as he tried to rub the muddy stains out of his pants._

_Nigel moved down the hallway, wondering how many more traps there were. He had always hated traps—the mind puzzles were more his style._

_He had almost given up hope of ever finding the end of the hallway when it suddenly widened into a huge chamber. In fascination, Nigel shone his torch all around, his eyes traveling to walls and far off ceiling._

_Then, his light flashed on something about thirty feet from where he was standing. Slowly, as he realized what it was, a smile came to his face._

_It was a small, waist high dais, made of carved stone. The images it depicted were both horrible in their subject and amazing in their detail. Ugly demons were captured in acts of severe depravity, their victims so lifelike, Nigel could almost hear them screaming._

_Nigel moved closer, drawn in by the images. He wondered what it would be like, holding the Demon's Heart. Would it send a jolt of pure power through him? One that he couldn't resist? Would it murmur in his mind, offering temptations beyond his control if he would just, at least once, use the jewel as it wanted to be used? Fear and excitement mingled in him._

_He hadn't gone much further when a strange feeling gripped his insides. A soft voice, no louder than a sigh in the wind, seemed to whisper in his ear._

_“Duck, Nigel.”_

_Taking the words for intuition, Nigel dropped to the floor and heard a whining noise as arrows flew by above him. His stomach clenched and for a moment he thought he might vomit._

_Breathe, he told himself, forcing air into and then out of his lungs. At least he was still alive. It was amazing really. So far, he had managed to avoid and survive every trap that came into his path. When he had accepted this job, a pretty big part of himself had been positive he would fail._

_Carefully, Nigel got to his feet and approached the dais. Up close, it was even more impressive. The demons gave him chills, and the victims turned his stomach. He reached out to touch the carvings, but stopped just before contact._

_“What are you doing, Nigel?” he asked out loud. “Did you just start the hunt yesterday? Touch the most innocent looking thing and it could be a trigger for a death trap.”_

_He crouched down in front of the dais, running part of the clue from Professor Watt's papers through his head._

_The key to the heart is encased in stone. A heart for a heart. Stone protected by stone._

_Methodically, he started searching the stone, looking for anything that might be the named key. He searched for several minutes before he saw the slavering demon with a human heart in its hand. Nigel studied the picture, repeating the phrase “a heart for a heart” in his mind._

_After examining it from all angles, he made his decision. With great care, ready to jump away if he sprung a trap, Nigel reached forward and touched the human heart._

_There was a small click and then the stone dais let out a groan, making Nigel take a stumbling step back. A crack appeared across the top of the dais, and the two parts it made slid away from each other to reveal a chamber beneath._

_When that was all that happened, Nigel took a cautious step forward and peeked into the new opening. He felt a smile spread over his face as he saw a fist sized red stone._

_The Demon's Heart._

_Lying there like that, it could have been any jewel. Except for the fact that it was the color of dried blood, the Heart was unremarkable. He wondered if it had the powers history attributed to it or whether it was all just a myth. He knew two contradictory pieces of information that told him it could go either way. Both, he had learned through relic hunting with Sydney. The first was relic hunting's first, most important, rule. History lies. The second was that most legends were rooted in fact._

_But whether the stone could do what was said of it or not was not important to Nigel. What was important was that he had found a relic on his own. Nigel Bailey. Alone._

_Eagerly, Nigel reached in and picked up the stone. He cradled it in his hands, half expecting it to glow red like the eyes of the devil doll._

_Then, he heard an ominous cracking and the second part of the clue popped into his head. Stone protected by stone. Nigel looked up and saw the ceiling above him trembling as if it were alive. Fear clenched his belly. Sydney wouldn't have made this mistake. Sydney would have figured out the second part of the saying as well as the first. She wouldn't have assumed that “stone protected by stone” meant the stone dais._

_All this went through his mind in a flash. Then, his feet caught up with his brain and he turned to run. He'd only gotten two steps before pain exploded in his head, and the whole world went black._

XXX

_“Nigel...Nigel..."_

__

The voice seemed to come from far away, as Nigel slowly came back to awareness. There was a throbbing in his head and an ache in his shoulder that threatened real pain if he moved. It took a moment for him to remember where he was. Slowly, he blinked open dust encrusted eyes. He felt odd, and the smell of dirt was all around him. He felt the grit of it on his face.

He was in complete darkness and, for one heart stopping moment, he thought that he had been struck blind. Clamping the thought down, he let reason convince him that his torch had probably gone out when he fell. 

Then, the whole of his memory came back. He remembered the cave in. He remembered the Demon's Heart. And he remembered Sydney was dead.

Quickly, he checked himself to see if everything was still functional. Besides a pain so sharp he saw little stars when he tried to move his right arm, he seemed to be mostly in tact. This, at least, was a relief.

His next problem was how to get out of there. It was a big one. He was sitting alone in the dark with a dislocated shoulder. He had no idea where his light was, and he didn't even know which side of the fallen ceiling he was on. He could be trapped by the dais with no way out.

“How did I think I could do this without you?” he whispered.

“Don't be so negative.”

The voice was so close and so unexpected that Nigel jumped, sending fiery agony through his shoulder. Tendrils of dirt slid from his skin to the floor at the jolt.

Nearby, his torch came on, driving away darkness. Nigel threw a hand up in front of instantly watering eyes to protect them from the glare.

When they finally could see, Nigel's mouth fell open. There she was, standing just out of his reach, with his torch in her hand. She was dressed in black with her satchel over her shoulder, just like in all of his best memories. Her hair was loose and fell in waves past her shoulders, and a simple black tie adorned her throat.

His eyes drank in her form, not caring that he was probably either hallucinating or still unconscious. It was enough to see her face again. And she looked so solid. So real.

The no-nonsense look that often had him shaking in his boots came to her face. “Shake it off, Nigel.”

She planted her hands on her hips and stared down at him. When he didn't move or speak, she raised one questioning eyebrow at him.

“I can't do this. Sydney, I've failed.”

“What do you mean you've failed? You haven't even tried yet.”

He shook his head, struggling to sit despite the pain. “I'm not like you.”

“Well, you're not dead, if that's what you mean.” Pain stabbed at him, and she must have seen it on his face. “I'm sorry, Nigel. That was insensitive of me. I know you miss me.”

Miss was an understatement. He'd gladly give his life to prolong this delusional moment.

“Listen.” She came over and knelt by his side. “You are a good relic hunter. You know all the skills. You're just lacking in confidence. You came in here alone; you avoided all the traps...”

“But one,” he muttered.

She raised a hand. “All right, all but one. But you're alive. You've got to keep on living. There are relics out there that may never be found if you don't find them. You know I'm a good judge of these things and, I can tell you, you have the potential to be the best.”

“The best implies only one. Only you, Syd...Only you.”

She waved that away. “Stop playing with semantics. You can do this. You need to do this.” Then she shone the torch around the room. “At least you're on the right side of the cave in.”

Nigel realized she was right. The stone dais was nowhere to be seen, and nearby stood the cavern's entrance. Maybe he could get out of there and maybe, just maybe, he could become a relic hunter to make her proud.

As he gazed at her, his heart skipped a beat. Seeing her face again was a miracle, and he didn't care what caused it. In fact, if the Heart were responsible, he'd willingly give up the required piece of his soul.

“Are you real?” he asked softly. “Can I touch you?”

Her eyes searched his face for a moment before she reached a hand out to him. Nigel lifted his left hand, but was suddenly too terrified to reach back. If he tried to touch her and she disappeared, it would break his heart. He didn't want the dream to end.

Reading his mind as only she could, Sydney completed her motion and gripped his hand in hers. It was solid and warm. The skin that brushed his was slightly callused but feminine despite that. It was unmistakably Sydney's hand.

“How is this possible?”

A smile broke over her face, almost stunning him. It reminded him of the first joy filled smile she had ever given him, that day on the train when his quiet little teaching job turned into a race to save a priceless relic from Stewie Harper.

“Think of all the wondrous things we've seen.” She settled the rest of the way down beside him, turning her crouch into a seat on the dirty and dusty ground. “You should know by now that anything is possible.”

He couldn't argue with that. He'd even seen the existence of life after death.

Her shoulder gently touched his good one. “Well, now we've got to get you out of here. At least the fall hurt your shoulder and not a leg.”

“Yes, but I'm not sure I can get up.”

“Sure you can. I'll help. You can lean on me the whole way out if you need to.”

“Thank you, Syd.”

She looked at him, a strange look in her eye. For a moment, it looked as if she were going to say something terribly important. Then, she swallowed and said simply, “You're welcome, Nige.”

XXX

Nigel woke slowly, wiping the sleep from his eyes. Though he'd slept for nine hours, his body felt as though he'd just closed his eyes. Pieces of his dream clung to his foggy brain, and he was tempted to fall back into it. Sometimes the Sydney in his dreams was more real than anything that was happening in his life.

Wearily, he rose and headed towards the bathroom. As he passed the phone, he noticed a red blinking light. He had no idea who could have called—unless it was one of Jaidyn's friends, not knowing she was gone for a couple of weeks.

Curiosity won over need and Nigel pressed the play button on the phone.

The face that greeted him was such a surprise that he completely forgot he had to go to the bathroom.

“Hey, Nige. It's me. I've got something I need to talk to you about. I'll be there at about ten.”

Derek Lloyd. When was the last time Nigel had seen him? It must have been at least three years, when he had helped Nigel find the Star of Atlantis and told the relic hunter he was finally accepting a desk job.

The years had been good to Derek. Despite the fact that he must have been around sixty, his face was only slightly lined and his blue eyes were as sharp and piercing as ever. Though his hair was grey, he could otherwise have been in his forties.

Nigel looked at his watch and saw that it was almost nine. If he wanted to get dressed and have breakfast before his friend arrived, he'd have to hurry.

Thoughts of dreams and fatigue were driven from his head, and he rushed to get ready. He was just finishing the last of his oatmeal when there was a knock at his door. Nigel gulped down his last two bites and went to open it.

“Derek!”

“Hi, Nigel.” A smile creased Derek's face, softening its natural sterness. “Fall out of any trees lately?”

Nigel smiled back. “No. I don't think my old bones could take it. Shoot anyone lately?”

“Unfortunately no, but there's always tomorrow.”

This had been their greeting for over twenty years. It was their way of acknowledging a shared friendship that endured the test of time. Besides Karen and Claudia, Derek was the only friend Nigel kept in touch with that had known Sydney.

Nigel shook his head and waved Derek in. “I got your message.”

“Good.” Then, he studied Nigel's face a moment. “You look tired. Have you been taking care of yourself?”

“Look who's talking.”

Derek raised a hand. “Hey, I took a desk job. Remember?”

“Yes, when you were older than I am. I'm fifty, Derek, not eighty-five.”

“All right,” the agent acquiesced. “It's just, I know how hard you push yourself when Jaidyn's not here to take care of you.”

“Being the best relic hunter in the world is quite demanding,” Nigel answered loftily, causing another smile to flit over Derek's face. “But enough about me. There was something you wanted to talk about?”

The agent immediately turned serious. “Oh, yes, that. I found something you might be interested in.”

Nigel led his friend into the living room and offered him some refreshments. Derek declined and settled on the couch with a sigh. Then, he leaned back, crossing his legs and bringing his feet up to rest on the coffee table. Nigel winced but made no comment as he settled beside him. 

Nigel waited for almost a minute before asking curiously, “Well?”

Derek looked at him, studying Nigel's face before asking, “Have you ever heard of The Dragon's Teeth?”

Nigel's eyes widened. “The set of daggers said to have belonged to Duke Llewellyn? Lost in the fifteenth century?”

Derek nodded. “What if I told you that I came across documents pinpointing the location of the duke's hiding place?”

“The peasant's killed him!”

“Actually, I have information saying he took his daughters and fled. Interested?”

“I can't ...where did you find this information?”

“An up and coming young whipper snapper in the research department recently discovered it. She's a whiz...Cute too.” Derek sighed. “Oh, to be thirty years younger.”

“Or even twenty.” Nigel winked before getting back to the meat of what Derek was saying. “So, what exactly did the girl discover?”

“A letter.”

Nigel frowned. “What kind of letter?”

“A letter in Duke Llewellyn's own hand, dated after his supposed death.”

“What?”

“Actually, it was signed Caerwyn Gwynn.”

Nigel chewed his lip thoughtfully. “One of the Duke's known aliases.”

Derek nodded. “Mary had the parchment carbon dated. It's authentic—in age, at least.”

Then the agent reached for his briefcase, which was leaning against the side of the coffee table. He snapped it open and rummaged around inside. His hand came out with a piece of paper, protected by a plastic bag.

“Is that the original?” Nigel leaned forward excitedly.

“Yes. And I have a copy here with some of Mary's notes. She wasn't able to pinpoint the location of the daggers, but I'm certain you can.”

Nigel gently took the paper from Derek's hand and scanned it.

“Do you think there's something here?”

As Nigel studied the document in his hand, he felt excitement building. His gut told him this was a good, solid lead, and, after all these years, his gut was rarely wrong.

He then studied the copy and Mary's notes, which Derek also gave him.

“And this woman is an agent?” he asked after a few moments. “Her talents are being wasted.”

Derek grinned at that. “I'll pass the message along.”

Nigel just waved a hand absently at his friend, his mind already focusing on the puzzle in front of him. “This is amazing.”

“Why do you think I brought it to you?”

Derek had been bringing Nigel stuff for years. Sometimes, he needed Nigel's help, and others he just wanted to give a lead to a friend. In all that time, Nigel had never learned more than a few tidbits in passing about Richard Watson, the man Derek had been before one woman's actions had changed his life. Nigel hadn't bothered to pry because Derek was the man he knew, and Derek was the man who had become his friend.

Nigel smiled. “Thank you.”

“Any time.”

Derek didn't stay long after that. Even with a desk job, he was always hurrying to get somewhere. His life was even more hectic than Nigel's.

Once Derek was gone, Nigel let his mind submerge completely into the puzzle before him. The letter was simple enough. It was from “Gwynn” to his best friend, telling him how “Gwynn” had escaped death, putting himself and his small daughters into hiding. Though his location wasn't given, Nigel knew in his gut that somewhere inside the letter the Duke had left the clues. Nigel just had to be smart and shrewd enough to find them.

Nigel read the letter several times before putting it aside to do other things. He knew that sometimes the best tool was approaching thing with fresh eyes, so, for the rest of the afternoon, he puttered around doing household chores, doing research, and calling his niece. 

It was as he was eating his evening meal that something about the letter struck him. He didn't even bother to finish eating. Instead, he put down his fork and carefully washed his hands before picking up the priceless document.

What had seemed to be a peculiarity in Llewellyn's penmanship suddenly seemed to have a pattern. Certain letters were slanted slightly, but not always the same letters.

Nigel got out a piece of looseleaf and jotted down the letters, hoping his hunch was right. Once all the letters were down, Nigel stared at them...but they were just nonsense.

He sighed and slumped back in disappointment for just a second. Then, his eyes swept over his scribbles once more, and a slow smile spread over his face. Read correctly, the letters meant nothing, but read backwards...Nigel took to work writing feverishly once more. 

“A place named River's Cross,” he mumbled, delight making him want to shout the words. “And directions on how to find their hideout from there. Thank you, Duke Llewellyn!”

XXX

It was a beautiful day when Nigel arrived in the little town of River's cross a couple of days later. The weather was sunny and, though warm, there was a cool breeze. It played with Nigel's grey streaked hair as he got out of his car in front of the town's only inn. It was well kept and large, probably the former home of some well-to-do minor noble. Nigel liked the looks of it.

A woman of about Nigel's age met him at the door, and a boy who had to be her son took his bags and disappeared up an elaborately carved wooden staircase. 

“Welcome to River's Cross, Mr. Bailey. What brings you to town?”

Nigel thought a moment before saying, “Site seeing.”

The woman laughed. “There's not a lot to see in River's cross.”

“I'm a student of nature...I'm also hoping to see some ruins. Do you know of any nearby?”

She frowned. “Ruins? Not that I know of. What kind of ruins were you thinking of?”

“Ruins of buildings abandoned centuries ago. I'm also a student of ancient history.”

“Well, there are records in the town hall that go back centuries. They might interest you.”

“Thank you.”

It always helped to have a Plan B just in case the surroundings had changed too much since Llewellyn's time. 

Nigel followed the teenager up the stairs and to the first door on his right.

“Here you are, sir,” the boy said. “Let us know if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” Nigel said again, “I will.”

He had barely entered his room when his phone rang. Quickly, he dropped his bag and dug through his pockets. 

“Hello?” he said at the seventh ring, hoping the caller hadn't hung up.

“Uncle Nigel!”

Nigel couldn't help the smile that spread over his face. “Jaidyn, sweetie, what are you doing calling at this hour? You swore to sleep until noon for your whole vacation.”

“Very funny.”

“I thought so.” He walked over to the bed and sat, relaxing in case Jaidyn was feeling chatty.

“Are you taking care of yourself?” That was always one of her first questions when she was away from him for any length of time.

“I'm fine, Jay. How are you?”

“He's driving me crazy!” she burst out, startling Nigel so that he almost dropped the phone.

“Who?”

“Who do you think? Daddy. He's trying to marry me off—in this day and age. I'm only twenty!”

“Do you want me to speak to him?”

“No. He never listens to you anyway. Can I join you in River's Cross?”

Nigel winced at the thought of getting between Jaidyn and Preston when they were having one of their rows. Even so, Jaidyn meant more to him than anything else in the world.

“Sure. I don't know how long I'll be here.”

“That's fine. Maybe I'll even help you find the relic.”

“I'd like that.”

“Great. See you soon.”

Nigel was about to say good-bye, but his niece had already hung up.

“Kids,” he grunted before stowing his phone back in his jacket. Then, he picked up his satchel and threw it over his shoulder. It contained everything he thought he might need, including a torch, notes made from the letter, and his crossbow. One thing he had learned over the years was to always be prepared.

Outside, wind once more blew his hair into his eyes. Nigel raked it back, squinting into the light. The instructions in the letter told him to go towards the morning sun until he reached the river. Then, he was to follow it until he found the rock of death. It's smile would, if all went well, lead Nigel to the place Llewellyn had hid with his daughters. Nigel still couldn't believe that the man had survived.

He enjoyed the walk, though he was winded before long. River's cross gave way to countryside, and the rolling hills soon swallowed the town. To Nigel, it was peaceful, and he felt as if he were the only person in existence. Early morning had become a friend to him over the years. Its quiet and stillness made it the best time for the hunt.

It took almost two hours to reach the river. In that amount of time, the only sound was the sighing of the wind and the singing of birds. As Nigel walked, he often looked at the letter as well as the directions he had jotted down. He wondered how he would find the daggers after he found Llewellyn's hiding place, and whether they were even there at all. What if the noble had left them behind when he fled? They weren't even mentioned in the letter. Even so, Llewellyn's dwelling place itself would be a miraculous find. 

Once he got to the river, Nigel frowned. He knew he was supposed to follow it, but in which direction? The letter didn't say. He stood undecided for several minutes before sighing and admitting to himself that he'd have to choose one way or the other. He made up his mind on right and turned that way.

“I wouldn't go that way if I were you.”

The voice was so unexpected that Nigel jumped and the letter slipped from his hand. He whirled, fearing a rival relic hunter and wishing he had his crossbow in his hand.

His jaw dropped and the skin on his arms and along the back of his neck prickled as he took in the woman in front of him. She was slightly taller than he and slender, with a smile that lit her face. Long, dark hair curled around her shoulders and down her back, and she was dressed in a simple black vest and matching pants.

“Sydney?” he whispered.

She came closer, her eyes studying his face. “You've aged, Nigel.”

“You haven't,” he blurted, and it was true. She looked as she had on their last hunt, and as she had in his delusion soon afterward. It was that appearance, just as he was about to give in, that made him forge on and become a relic hunter in his own right. He had always believed his mind had conjured her just when he needed her most but, at this moment, he wasn't so sure.

She laughed lightly at his words, commenting, “Death's a great anti-aging drug.”

Nigel winced. Even after all these years, Sydney's death was still a sore spot. He still missed her terribly.

She reached out to touch his shoulder. “Sorry, Nige.”

He flinched away, afraid of what her touch would be like. Would it be real as it had been the last time?

She dropped her hand, sadness flashing over her face for a moment. Nigel wanted to kick himself. Real or not, a dream or not, Sydney was here before him as he'd wanted for so long. He should be reaching out and taking her in his arms, feeling for himself if she were solid and real, holding her and never letting go.

“Syd...”

“Where's the letter, Nigel?”

“The letter?” His mind raced, and he suddenly remembered what he was doing there...and the letter fluttering from his fingers.

“Oh, Nigel,” she said softly, and he was suddenly the young, naïve assistant once more.

“It's got to be around here somewhere.”

He started looking on the ground, and so did she. He kept interrupting his search to look at her out of the corner of his eye, wondering if she were going to disappear.

After a few moments, she called, “Here.”

She was pointing down the river bank. Nigel looked and saw the letter being lapped by the waves at the very edge.

“Oh, no!” he exclaimed. “I hope I haven't ruined it.”

Quickly, Nigel retrieved it, frowning and its soggy and dripping state.

“Look,” he continued, “The writing is smudged. We can't give it...”

“But, what's this?”

Sydney had come up behind him and studied the letter over his shoulder. Nigel's thoughts left the letter as he realized he could actually feel breath on his cheek and warmth from her body.

“Nigel?”

“What's what?”

She reached over to touch the letter, her arm brushing his. Her skin felt as real and alive as that of any woman he had ever touched.

Her finger pointed to something that had begun to appear on the part of the letter that had been in the most water.

“Something's on there!”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Wet the rest of the letter.”

Without argument, Nigel knelt and began to carefully wet the back of the letter. Excitement grew in him as more words began to form. He glanced at Sydney and saw the same excitement sparkling from her dark eyes.

“I miss this,” she said.

“Relic hunting?”

She nodded. “Relic hunting...with you.”

“I miss it too, Syd.” Then, he turned back to the letter. “It's more directions.”

The two of them studied it, Sydney's face so close to his that her hair brushed his cheek.

“If you are reading this,” Nigel translated, “Then I was dead, probably murdered, when you arrived at my hidden cottage. Here is how to find my greatest treasure, one handed down through my family for generations. Find the Dragon's Teeth, Dewydd, and make sure they are safe and secure once more.”

“So, we've still got to find the cottage. He starts from there.” Sydney commented.

“But which way do we follow the river?”

“Left.”

“Left? How do you know?”

“I just do.”

That was good enough for Nigel. The two of them started out, following the small, meandering river.

After several minutes of silence, Nigel asked, “Sydney?”

“Yes, Nigel?”

“Why have you come?”

She stopped and looked at him. She took so long to answer, Nigel wondered if she would. “Because I wanted to.”

“But why now? There were so many times I could have used your help. Where were you then?”

Sydney shook her head. “You didn't need me. Not really. If you did, you wouldn't be here now. You needed to find your own way, Nigel. A way without me.”

“And I've finally done so?” he asked angrily. “So, now you've come to remind me what it was like?” His anger surprised him, but didn't seem to surprise her. “How could you leave me like that, Syd? When I needed you so much?”

She took him by the shoulders, her hands firm. “It wasn't my choice. Do you think I wanted to die? Do you think I wanted my death to be so...so...”

“Normal?” he whispered.

Her eyes dropped from his and her hands dropped from his shoulders. “Meaningless.”

She turned from him and suddenly his anger slipped away.

“I could have died the way I lived,” she was saying lowly. “In excitement, doing something important, saving something that was priceless. Instead, my body decided it was done living. I died for nothing.”

“Your death could never be meaningless, Sydney, no matter how you died.” He gently put his hand on her arm. “How could it, when your life had so much meaning, not only to the world, but to the people who loved you?”

She looked at him, her eyes grabbing his. “Did you love me, Nigel?”

“Very much so,” he answered simply and honestly.

Then, she smiled, chasing away shadows that had settled on her face. Her hand found his and squeezed gratefully. “Yeah, I know.”

As they moved on, Nigel found that he had completely accepted Sydney's presence, whether she was real or not, and he promised himself to enjoy the experience for as long as she was there.

It wasn't long after that that they came across a huge boulder. Nigel squinted at it.

“Does that look like a skull to you?”

Sydney approached it and looked at it from all angles. “Maybe a little,” she said eventually.

Nigel knelt. “And this would be the teeth?”

“Yes.”

“It's smile is supposed to lead us to the hideaway.”

Sydney knelt beside him, leaning forward to study the rock's 'mouth'.

“There's an arrow here. Carved into the stone.” Nigel saw it just a second before Sydney pointed it out.

It indicated a grove of trees about fifty feet away.

Sydney grinned and clapped her hand on his shoulder. “Come on, Nige. The faster we find out where the hideaway is, the faster we find the teeth.”

As she stood and withdrew her hand, Nigel grabbed it. She stopped and looked at him questioningly.

“How long?” he asked.

“How long what?”

“You know.” He was certain she did. It was an obvious question.

“As long as you need me.” She changed the grip on his hand and used it to pull him to his feet.

“And what if I need you forever?”

She avoided his question, instead saying, “The day isn't getting any younger, and we don't know how far into the trees we need to go.”

“Sydney...”

“Come on, Nigel.”

She started towards the wood, and he had no choice but to follow.

There was still a faint path through the trees, overgrown but visible to someone who patiently looked for it. The path wasn't all that long and it opened out into a clearing that was just as overgrown.

Despite growing fatigue and the shock of having Sydney by his side, Nigel had enough excitement left in him to exclaim, “This is it! Can you feel it?”

Sydney nodded, smiling at his enthusiasm. “Now, we just have to find the foundation, so we can find the hole he hid the teeth in.”

“Yes, but first,” Nigel said, dropping to the ground, “a rest and some lunch. You might not need them, but these old bones do.”

“Fifty's not so old, Nigel,” she replied, plunking down to the ground beside him.

“I feel more like a hundred.” He dug through his pack, looking for the nutritious bar-like snack he kept there. It was the first thing he had thought to eat that day, and he ravenously wolfed it down. He was going to offer Sydney some, but changed his mind. He doubted that ghosts—or figments of your imagination—ate, no matter how real they felt.

The two of them sat in silence while he munched. Nigel soaked it in—soaked in the feeling of being with her—not knowing how long it would last. The last time she appeared to him, she had stayed until he stumbled out of the cave and into the sunshine. Without even saying good-bye, she disappeared, and Nigel found himself alone. Would she be with him until he found the daggers? Would she disappear when he found the foundation? Maybe she would slip away while he was eating. Suddenly, Nigel didn't feel so hungry. 

“Don't worry. I'm not leaving anytime soon,” she said, reading his mind as she always could.

He blushed and shoved the rest of his bar in his mouth. Then, he got to his feet. He was surprised when Sydney reached up her hand so he could pull her to hers. Afterwards, Nigel didn't want to let go.

The foundation was not so hard to find if you knew what to look for. All that was left were crumbled stone and rough brown grass. Digging through some of the rubble, Nigel found a bowl and part of a child's doll.

“This has got to be it,” he said unnecessarily.

“Unless you think there were two noblemen hiding out here,” Sydney agreed with a smirk.

“No,” he deadpanned. “I don't think so.”

He saw her eyes widen at his joke and turned so that she couldn't see the smile that crossed his face.

“Now, the instructions say,” he continued, “to start at the door and take fifty strides...keeping in mind that a stride would have been smaller then. The only question is, where was the door? It couldn't have been towards the path or we'd be going back in the same direction.”

“Well,” Sydney commented after a moment of thought, “this tangle here looks like it might have once been a garden.”

Nigel peeked at it. “Do you think so?”

“A small garden someone might have planted in front of their home.” 

“Not in the back?”

“No.” She shook her head.

“All right. So, fifty strides from here.”

“Small strides,” she reminded him.

Fifty strides brought them to another rock—large, but not so large that the both of them couldn't move it together. 

“You can't just...move it yourself?” Nigel asked delicately.

“Nigel, I'm dead, not Superman.”

He nodded sheepishly and put his back into helping. There was a lot of grunting and groaning, at least on Nigel's part and by the time the rock was displaced to reveal an opening, his legs were trembly and his head was spinning.

“Are you all right?” Sydney asked with concern.

“Just a little winded.” he didn't want her to see exactly how winded, so he took the lead and began climbing down the ladder Llewellyn had left leading into the darkness. It was rotten and unsafe from centuries of neglect, and Nigel wished he had thought to anchor himself before the climb.

“Don't come down, Syd. Any more weight and the ladder will collapse.”

“All right. I'll just hold the light.”

A torch was turned on above Nigel, and suddenly he could see into the depths of the hole. It occurred to him that Sydney, already deceased, might have been the better choice to navigate the dangerous ladder. Then again, figments of the imagination couldn't actually retrieve a real relic when the imaginer was waiting somewhere else.

“Be careful, Nigel.”

“No fears of my not being, I assure you.”

It seemed to take forever to reach the bottom of the hole and a dark passage leading from it.

“I'm going to need that light,” he said, peering into the inky blackness.

“Somehow, I thought you might.”

The voice behind him forced a startled squeak from his throat, which caused a bubble of laugher from Sydney. Nigel turned slowly to see her standing behind him grinning with the light in her hand. 

“Why didn't you tell me you could do that?”

“There are advantages to being dead.”

Nigel winced. “Don't say that, please. I want to believe that you are alive...that you're real.”

The smile dropped from her face. “You don't believe that I'm real?”

“In all fairness, Syd, would you, if you were me?”

She thought about this for a minute before shaking her head. “I don't know.”

“And neither do I.” He studied her quietly before admitting, “But it doesn't matter. Reality is overrated, especially at my age.”

Without answering, she shone the torch down the tunnel in front of them. Nigel took the hint and started after the light first.

The tunnel wasn't very long, and it ended quite suddenly with a small niche carved into the dirt wall. The niche contained a box.

“Beware, the teeth are protected by claws,” Sydney quoted.

Nigel looked thoughtfully at the niche. “I remember. What do you suppose it means?”

“Nothing good.”

“True.”

He swept the area with his eyes, noting a certain irregularity in the floor and small holes in the wall. “Arrows.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Anything else?”

Nigel studied the room with his intuition as well as his senses, searching for anything that could prove fatal. After a moment, he said, “I don't think so, no.”

He carefully went to the box and opened it. Inside, five daggers glittered in the light from the torch. They sat on a bed of red velvet, their handles carved with visions of beasts from the wilds of Wales.

“They're amazing.”

“Yes,” Sydney agreed, carefully coming up beside him to run a finger down one of the hilts.

Nigel glanced at her and saw the expression he cherished most on her face. How man times over the years had he closed his eyes to see the joy lighting Sydney's when she discovered a relic? To him, it was always when she looked the most beautiful.

As if feeling his gaze, she looked at him. “What?”

“Are you going to leave me now, Sydney?” It slipped out before he could stop it.

Sydney reached out and gently closed the box. “No, I'm not leaving you.”

Something about the tone of her voice made Nigel put a hand on her arm. “What do you mean by that?”

She lifted the box and held it out to him. “Just what I said. Now, come on, Nigel. We've got things to do.”

“We?” he asked, taking the box.

“The Dragon's Teeth are a wonderful find for a last hunt, don't you think?”

XXX

Jaidyn Bailey walked through the afternoon sunshine, enjoying the cool breeze that played with her hair and caressed her cheeks. It felt good to get out of London and away from her father for a little while. She loved him fiercely, but he just didn't get her—not like her Uncle Nigel did.

The thought of him brought a smile to Jaidyn's face. Her uncle had always been a big part of her life, taking the time to visit every time a hunt or research brought him close to London when she was growing up. He had been full of wonderful stories about his adventures around the world, and sometimes, when he was in a particularly good mood, he'd tell her stories about the beginning of his hunts, stories about Sydney. Jaidyn had always been especially fascinated with those because they went completely against her father's views on propriety for women.

It was Nigel that had made her want to study in America, and it was Nigel who—though he didn't know it yet—was slowly winning her over to the excitement of becoming a relic hunter.

It would be good to see him. She missed him so much now when she went away. That's why she had been disappointed when she arrived at the inn to find he had already left. At least the landlady had been helpful in telling her that Uncle Nigel had mentioned going to the river. Jaidyn had grabbed a pack, shoving in some food in case her uncle had forgotten.

The walk to the river took longer than she expected. She was getting tired and hungry herself when she first heard the stream bubbling as if in joyful laughter. The happy sound went nicely with Jaidyn's lightening mood, and she began to hum.

The sound cut off suddenly as both the stream and a form lying by its bank came into view. She recognized it immediately and fear gripped her. She stubbornly clamped it down, telling herself that he might just be sleeping or resting.

“Uncle Nigel,” she called, hurrying forward. When he didn't answer, she repeated, “Uncle Nigel?”

As she approached, she noticed he was lying there peacefully, his face bathed in sunlight. His eyes were closed and a slight smile graced his features. His hands rested on his stomach, looking pale against the blueness of his shirt. Beside him sat an ancient but well preserved and beautiful wooden box with a piece of parchment on its lid.

Jaidyn barely noticed it as she dropped to her uncle's other side. Nigel was unnaturally still, and a faint touch of blue tinged his lips.

Jaidyn gasped painfully as she realized that her uncle wasn't just sleeping. Her lower lip trembled as a thousand childhood memories raced through her mind.

“You can't leave me yet,” she whispered. “I didn't get to tell you that I've decided to be a relic hunter. I wanted you to be proud of me.”

Her voice cracked on her last words, and tears overflowed, spilling down her cheeks. As she reached up to dash them away, a strange feeling made her turn around.

Her breath caught and her senses reeled as she saw two people standing just twenty feet away. One was a woman with long dark hair and a slightly stern but kind face. A face that looked like it would smile as easily as frown.

The other was unmistakably her Uncle Nigel. But he looked as he had when she was a child. His hair was completely brown and cut in a boyish style; his face had the vibrancy and joy of youth. And he was smiling. A grin stretched from ear to ear, and his eyes sparkled. Jaidyn could never remember him looking so happy.

“It's all right, Jay.” His voice was faint, and she barely caught his words. “You'll be okay. I was always proud of you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, watching him raise a hand. Jaidyn raised her hand back. 

Nigel then nodded and offered the hand to the woman by his side. As the woman took it, Jaidyn realized who she must be. Her uncle's Sydney. The reason he had never married. The reason he had become a relic hunter. 

Sydney took Nigel's hand, and together they turned from Jaidyn and walked towards the falling sun. Jaidyn shaded her eyes with a hand, her heart filling with both grief and joy. She watched the two figures until they disappeared, comforted by the fact that her sad, solitary uncle was happy again at last.

The End


End file.
